


Not According to Plan

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stand alone story.<br/>Tried to get this up yesterday but Archive went down. Oy!</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not According to Plan

"What the hell are we gonna do now?" Porthos spat. "We all but delivered d'Artagnan to them gift wrapped!"

"Calm down, mon ami," Aramis clapped the huge man on the arm. "D'Artagnan was sick. He knew we needed to catch these bandits and couldn't afford to head back," he sighed, slapping his hat against his thigh in frustration. "The boy knew he would never make it back to the garrison on his own either. This was our only option at the time."

"A damn bad one at that!" Porthos growled, thinking about the whelp back in the house surrounded by those scum.

"How were we to know that the nice couple we left our pup with had guns held to their heads... literally?" Athos closed his eyes and grimaced, then opened them again to focus on the house where they had thought their youngest would get tended too while the rest of them continued on. Athos had promised the lad that if there were no signs of the bandits within a day's ride they'd come back to collect d'Artagnan and get him back to the garrison.

"How could the whelp's sniffles turn into congestion so fast anyway?" Porthos's worried gaze encountered Athos's as he knelt by his brother's side watching from a distance for any activity from the house.

"It's d'Artagnan," Aramis snorted. "He kept telling all of us he was fine."

"When he clearly wasn't," Athos snapped, his patience was thread bare at the moment. "Remind me to lecture our hard headed Gascon later after we rescue him and the Pelletiers.”

"I'll hold d'Art down for you so our boyo don't get right up and leave before you give him what for," Porthos huffed.

"I just pray none of those men have caused an injury to any of them," Aramis had shoved his hat back on his head with one hand and gripped his harquebus tightly with the other. His sharp eyes scanned the open area thoroughly. "One way in..."

"One way out," Porthos stated, having cased the grounds as soon as they had returned. "I'll take the back."

"While Aramis and I enter from the front," Athos grimly finished. They worked well as a team and always would. Adding d’Artagnan to their numbers only strengthened their close-knit unit.

"Ya know if we hadn't run into that farmer when we did we wouldn't have known that those malandrins doubled back on us." Porthos's voice shook with growing concern for their young one.

"When has anything ever gone according to plan when we're involved, eh?" Athos arched his eyebrow as he adjusted his weapon's belt and pulled his hat low on his forehead, before getting ready to approach their goal.

“All right, mon frères,” Aramis’s eyes flashed with fire for a second as he gave Athos and Porthos a thumbs up. “This should be a piece of cake.”

“Right,” Porthos snorted, “Now you’ve gone and made me think of the lunch I missed today.”

“Porthos, you’re a bottomless pit when it comes to food,” Aramis teased. “Anyway I would assume you’d rather be bashing heads in than eating right now.”

“Got that right on the money,” Porthos grunted as he held his sword and musket at the ready.

“You may yet get your chance for *bashing*,” Athos’s blue eyes hardened. “Especially if they’ve harmed d’Artagnan or the Pelletiers.”

++++

As Athos and Aramis stormed through the front door, kicking it in, Porthos burst through the back taking three bandits by surprise as they were involved in a card game. “Normally, I’d love a good game of cards but not tonight,” Porthos roared in anger as he clobbered one of the men with a blow to the head using his musket. He then nearly choked one to death in an armlock until the criminal passed out. The third one cowered on his knees and held out his hands to be tied. “Finally,” Porthos laughed harshly, “someone with a little common sense," he glared at the man. "Mind ya, I said *little*."

++++

While Porthos cleaned up the vermin in the back, Aramis and Athos took care of their share in the other rooms.

As one of the armed bandits came after Aramis, the Musketeer fired his musket with point blank accuracy, hitting one man high in the shoulder and then whirling around to shoot another with his harquebus before the other bandit had a chance to retaliate in kind.

Furious over finding out they had been tricked to begin with, Athos threw his poignard with deadly precision at his target, pinning the odious man against the wall. His dagger went clean through the criminal’s jacket. Hearing the man scream in agony brought a slight smile to Athos's set features. Then he made fast work of the last man standing with a well placed lunge of his sword piercing the bandit’s left side as blood sprayed out everywhere.

Glancing around the room at the pile of bodies they had dispatched, Athos and Aramis grinned in satisfaction.

When Porthos joined them, all three men raced up the staircase, their thoughts lingered on the fate of d'Artagnan and the Pelletiers. Each man held their breath in hopes that their younger brother and the couple were still alive. 

++++

When the inseparables crashed through the bedroom door where they had left d’Artagnan safely ensconced earlier, the sight that greeted them took them by complete surprise.

There was d’Artagnan looking the worse for wear sitting up in bed hacking out a lung by the sounds of it, Athos thought in concern. Despite the boy’s distress he had a strong grip on his pistol which was directed towards the man on the floor suffering from a bloody wound to the chest. 

Giving his mentor a tentative smile, d’Artagnan acknowledged the older man with a nod of his head. “Used the distraction... you created to my… advantage," he wheezed. "The Pelletiers managed to give me my pistol from my weapon’s belt when that one," d'Artagnan indicated the bandit on the floor bleeding profusely, "ran to the door to see what was going on," d'Artagnan then had a most violent bout of coughing, making everyone wince from the horrible sound.

While Porthos and Aramis checked over the older couple, Athos sat on the bed brushing the child’s hair out of his eyes. Touching tenderly a bruised face and split lip, his eyes narrowed. “Which one?” he growled low.

“I didn't catch his name but he was downstairs, so I assume you’ve already dealt with him,” d’Artagnan started coughing uncontrollably again while Athos patted his back wishing he could do more. 

Tutting, Aramis sat on the other side of the youngster to examine him. “We can’t risk moving him yet, Athos.”

“I realized that just by listening to our poor pup.” Looking over at the Pelletiers, Athos asked, “You were not harmed in any way?” He knew his brothers had already checked them for injuries but Athos needed to make sure. He couldn't live with himself if innocents had paid the price for their mistakes.

“Non,” Monsieur Pelletier gazed sorrowfully at the younger man laying in the bed. “Mainly they taunted d’Artagnan because he was a Musketeer,” he glared at the man writhing on the floor. “That one slapped the boy so viciously that I thought d’Artagnan would lose consciousness.”

"That's how I... acquired the split lip," d'Artagnan closed his eyes as he leaned his aching head against the headboard.

“Bandits have no love for us,” Athos murmured dryly, kicking out at the wounded man, “and we have no love for them either.” Hearing the bandit cry out in pain gladdened his heart. Athos only wished he could do worse.

“We tried to dissuade them of their actions,” Mrs. Pelletier remarked, “but then they threatened us with death if we tried to interfere.”

“And I told them to… not put themselves in… jeopardy for my sake,” d’Artagnan managed to choke out while Aramis tended to him. Looking at all three of his brothers d’Artagnan sighed as he laid back down, shivering under the covers, eyes bright with a slight fever. “Next time no splitting up. We all stick.. together no matter what, eh?”

“Next time,” Athos’s eyes sparked with ire as he gazed at his young friend, tapping the boy gently on the nose, “you tell us when you are not well. No more hiding it from us.”

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan then closed them, shortly drifting off to sleep as Aramis fingers danced through his hair in a soft rhythm. With the return of his brothers, d’Artagnan no longer had any worries as he floated away, courtesy of the draught Aramis had whipped up and poured down his throat. Knowing his family was together again, d’Artagnan fell into a deep sleep.

Nudging Athos in the shoulder, Porthos shared a compassionate look with him. “The lad doesn’t make things easy for us, does he?”

“He wouldn’t be d’Artagnan if he did,” Athos huffed, watching their youngest take his rest.

“I’m going to round up the bandits we didn’t kill and tend to their injuries now that we have things sorted out up here,” Aramis grinned. Staring at Porthos he crooked a finger. “I could use help removing the dead bodies before the Pelletiers go back down.”

“I suppose there’s blood everywhere,” Mrs. Pelletier moaned, sending her husband an aggrieved look.

“Madame,” Aramis’s eyes twinkled, “I can make you up something that will help remove most of it.”

Latching onto Aramis’s arm, the Mrs. laughed and then winked at Aramis. “A man who can tend wounds and knows how to clean up a mess is a keeper in my book.”

“Whoa ho!” Mr. Pelletier chuckled. “Watch out, Aramis, she has her eye on you.” Which he noticed made the Musketeer blush much to the amusement of the man’s two comrades.

“I can withstand the blood,” Mrs. Pelletier told Aramis. “So I will go down with you and help you make this miracle marvel that removes stains such as those.” Glancing sideways at her husband, she held out her hand. “Come along. I will not go down unless you accompany me.”

Rolling his eyes, Mr. Pelletier just looked at all the other gentlemen and huffed out, “Women!” making everyone but his wife laugh.

Grinning, Athos waved everyone out of the room. “Go on, do what needs done,” his voice was soft. As all four of them left Athos got off the bed and went to retrieve a chair, dragging it over to d’Artagnan’s bedside. Sitting once more, he followed the even rise and fall of the boy’s chest. “I swear you do these things deliberately, child.”

Picking up the youngster’s hand, Athos studied it as one would a fine work of art. “D’Artagnan, you hold a sword as if it were an extension of yourself,” carefully he placed the pup's hand back down, trying not to wake him. “I place my heart in those very same hands for safekeeping, my son.” He stood up and leaned over to tenderly kiss d’Artagnan’s brow.

Rolling onto his side, d’Artagnan cracked an eye open, looking at Athos sleepily with a silly grin on his face. “Love… you… too… Athos.”

The End


End file.
